


Whales

by victoridiaz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ghosts, Ocean, Short Story, Stars, Whales, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoridiaz/pseuds/victoridiaz
Summary: In my mind, the weight of the world is held by the sea. It is big enough to hold anything, and everything. It could swallow us all if it wanted. It is endless. The same salt that lingers in the water flows through our blood; we came from the sea, and in the end, we will all go back to it.Short story written for a CW class. Including but not limited to: ghosts, spookies, old timey folks, and heavily poetic descriptions of the sea.





	Whales

In my mind, the weight of the world is held by the sea. It is big enough to hold anything, and everything. It could swallow us all if it wanted. It is endless. The same salt that lingers in the water flows through our blood; we came from the sea, and in the end, we will all go back to it. 

I drifted down the steps of the old house, listening to the creaks in the floorboards as I went. Outside, the wind moaned and the house swayed from side to side. It was barely held up by twigs and bones - the beams that kept it aloft were old and starting to rot. They were the only things that kept the ancient wooden hut from crashing down the sides of the cliff into the ocean below. 

My feet gently slid over the old wood and I made my way into the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry - but then again, I was never hungry anymore. I eyed the old, empty pantry, then headed to the window. Wind whistled through a gap in the glass. Somewhere outside there was a commotion going on. 

I peered out the dusty glass, brushing cobwebs out of my view. Someone was shouting in the grassy fields beyond. Probably the farmer’s boy, I thought, annoyance creeping into my mind. He was always out bothering me, daring his friends to get close to the old house, tossing rocks, and circling the path - but he never came close enough to talk. That was alright with me - I hadn’t had contact with anyone in longer than I can remember. 

There was a great clattering, a whir, and suddenly the glass in front of me shattered and a small rock whizzed past my shoulder, knocking down some of the dusty pottery on the opposite shelf. I stepped back in shock. I wasn’t hurt, but the noise had startled me. I stood dazed for a few moments, then craned my neck outside the broken window.  _ If the farmer had any decency,  _ I thought,  _ he’d raise his children better.  _

Someone screamed from outside and I debated going after them, but decided it wasn’t worth it. I could already see the young boys sprinting away from the house, shouting at each other in fearful delight. Their stone had found its mark. 

The house creaked dangerously, and I slunk back into the shadows. 

I had lived in the house for hundreds of years, perhaps thousands - or maybe that was just what it felt like. Every day was the same. I got up from the old bedroom in the attic, though I rarely slept, and I came downstairs, pacing back and forth on the floorboards until my feet no longer felt the splinters from the rotting wood. Always, I found myself staring out at the great stormy ocean. 

The sound of the waves hitting the rocks of the cliffs comforted me. The sun of midday was bright and I didn’t like its harsh rays, but the clouds that always loomed over the water were tolerable. Nighttime was my favourite, because no one ever dared to bother the house at night - and the light of the stars did not seem to burn my skin like the sun. Nighttime was peaceful. 

I used to go into the village, once upon a time. I remember the brightly coloured markets, the people laughing, and the mountains of fruit, bread, livestock, and artisan goods up for sale. I even remember dances and the sound of a fiddle ringing through the air, but those memories are all but gone. Besides, something had happened one night, and the market stopped being a friendly place. People no longer greeted me with smiling faces. Instead, they turned to watch in my direction - but it felt as though they could almost see right through me. I could walk right up to greet them, but they would turn away, as if frightened, and often leave. There were some that seemed to see me, but they never approached me. The light and life of the market dwindled in me, and so I left and shut the doors of this ancient house, forever watching the clouds roll over the dark sea. 

The sun was setting when I heard voices again, coming nearer. Sometimes people liked to watch the sunset from the cliffs, but it was rare that they came near the old house. I sat still, and thought I could hear the voice of the young boy again. 

_ What would it take to leave an old woman alone,  _ I thought miserably. It didn’t matter, of course - soon the sun would set, and the creatures would come out, and the boys would leave, because no one ever stuck around the cliffs at night. Still, the voices drew nearer. 

I listened for more, and thought I heard footsteps in the grass. Someone shouted - and it was not the playful shout of the boy but the deep voice of a man. That was odd. 

There were more voices now, talking to each other, whispering. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the pale window, then disappeared behind a cloud.

I could feel the men circling the house, and I felt a trickle of unease creep through my body. Weren’t they afraid? I could hear tools clanging outside, and ever on and on the house rocked with the wind. It seemed to creak louder now, as if with anticipation. Outside, the clouds above the ocean were brewing. 

Unsettled, I crept up the stairs to the upper level, where I could get a better view. I paused, watching out the window - there was a whole group of men standing outside, pointing to the cliff. The farmer’s boy was at the front, and beside him stood the farmer - tall and sturdy - holding a pitchfork in one hand, with a frown etched into his lined face. 

“It’s in there, Da, I saw it, I swear I did,” I heard the boy call, and he pointed to the broken window. Instinctively, I moved away from the window on the upper floor, pressing my back to the wood. I closed my eyes and the house lurched. 

The wind howled. “It’s just a legend!” called one of the men. “It’s just an old tale to scare the children away from the cliffs - this old house is empty! Are you really saying you believe in children’s stories?” 

“I don’t know what I believe,” another voice sounded. 

A single raindrop splattered on the window.

“If it is just a fable,” growled another man, “then you won’t have any issue sending this old thing down into the waves. The wood’s too old and rotten to be of any use.” 

“It’s cursed, I tell you!” 

More shouting.

“Cursed! Haunted!” 

“I swear I’ve seen things here, the boy’s telling the truth!” 

“Curse or none, let us be rid of the damn thing then!” One voice sounded loud above the rest, and a great cry rose up from the crowd. 

I remained still. Night was coming. Didn’t the men know what came out at night? 

The house teetered, and I leaned to the wall to catch my balance. Cries sounded from down below, and I remembered the back entrance. I flew down the stairs to the kitchen, and stifled a cry as smoke filled the room. A flame flickered in the corner, and sparks crackled and burst in my face. The smell of rotten, burning wood filled the air. 

I ran from the house and outside into the dark air, cursing at the bright fire that blinded my eyes. The mob were shouting and tossing rocks at it. The flames licked at the wood like the tongues of dragons and in moments the place was completely ablaze. In their chaos, the men did not seem to notice me slip away. 

Far below, the black sea crashed angrily into the cliffs and the wind howled. 

_ Fools,  _ I thought.  _ They will come soon. They will have to see.  _

The house burned like a lantern in the stormy night, but I could see what they could not - far above, there was a part in the stormy clouds. Stars blinked at me through the smoke, and I smiled. 

The house had stood on the edge of the cliffs for hundreds of years, but now it would fall. 

It happened slowly at first. A great sound came up from the earth and the ground groaned beneath the house. The men stopped shouting, and gathered fearfully, watching the fire blaze. The sound grew louder, as though a rumbling was coming from the sea itself. 

Rain began to fall in sheets, but it was no match for the blazing inferno. The fire reached the rickety beams holding the house and they crumbled. Wood snapped and the house leaned and then began to fall, but with it came the earth around it. 

The men screamed, and I watched on as the ground split and the entire side of the cliff that had once housed the ancient hut slipped and went crumbling down. The mob tried to run, but it was no use - the cliff had broken, and was sliding down into the sea. There was a great rumble, an enormous splash - and then the light of the burning house went out.

I watched it disappear from view, then waited as the rain washed the last bits of mud and wood away. As quickly as it had come, the downpour began to subside. I stood until I no longer felt any rain on my skin before approaching the edge of the newly-eroded cliff. I peered down into the black abyss of waves, and saw nothing but the sea crashing into the rocks. Somewhere far off, the rumbling turned to haunting cries, and the storm clouds began to part. A new sound was in the air - a sound as though something was singing from very far away.  _ Whale song.  _

All around me they rose from the depths. Great whales, coloured black and blue and grey like the night sky, shook water off their skin as if it were made of starlight, and swam up through the night air. They drifted past the clouds and breached in the wind, then flew around me, and I gazed up.

I wondered, if the men had waited, if they would have seen the whales. I doubted it. After all, I had never seen them until that night so many years ago. The night I wandered too close to the edge of the cliffs, and the earth had opened up beneath my feet. 

Down into the water I had fallen, until the dark green depths had taken me. I had tried to fight it, had tried to swim upwards - but the current kept pulling me down, until my arms and legs were tangled with sea kelp and the light of the surface had all but left.

That was when they had found me. First I heard the Whale song, like a haunting breath drifting through the depths, and then they had lifted me up and carried me through the water. Up, up, up we went, until we burst from the surface into the cool night air, and they carried me upward still, until they laid me to rest at the old wood house on the cliffs. I lay in the grass and watched them float above in the stars for hours until I strayed through thought and time, and when I came to, I no longer felt the tug of hunger, nor the aching of tiredness, nor the desire for human contact. 

I stopped going into the village. Over time, the locals began to fear the old house, but it never bothered me. I had something they did not - for every night, without fail, I would go out onto the cliffs and watch the whales rise from the sea and dance about in the night air. 

The house was gone: the sea had finally claimed its life, as it had mine. I watched the waves suck in and out at the rocks, and the sound of whale song filled my head. 

Two of the great beasts drifted down, and carried me to the waves, where a small boat was waiting. I clambered inside, and recognized the touch of the old, moss covered wood. 

Slowly I drifted out into the endless expanse of green and black, but I was not afraid. I felt the years of being trapped in the old house leaving me, like poison drawn from a wound. Somewhere below me, the bodies of the men settled on the ocean floor, entwined in coffins of sea kelp and salt. 

Above me, the whales floated on and on into the starry sky. 


End file.
